Metempsychosis
by TwiDawnLight
Summary: The island had no children. Its humans needed their laughter, and the island knew just how to do it.
1. I Parturition

_**I.**_

Whale Island is its own little world, it has everything it needs.

Scenic (and dangerous for those who don't know where to tread) forests, friendly (and dangerous) fauna, glorious, sunset-basked oceans (with sizeable fish) and an idyllic (if small) peaceful village. People came and people went, there were very few humans who lived constantly on its shores but the island valued them all the same. Their happiness was its happiness. Just as the peaceful living of the animals brought it joy, so too did the daily lives of these two-legged peoples.

Those rare few who started gardens never lacked in their harvest, bread in the oven swelled but did not burn and the fishermen always brought in a good haul. Yes, Whale Island was a, well, _island_ unto itself. Even if these little two-legs came and went on their wood-carved floats they always left it with lovely memories, and it was all too content to return the favor. It had everything. Really, it did.

Except…

It had no children.

It had cubs, kids, kits and chicks but it did not have two leg children. Not since the lovely boy with the golden eyes had left and the girl had become woman and stayed. For on the fishing outpost (that was what they called the island) where people came and went, there were very few who stayed and grew. But that did not mean that the people had forgotten. There was a heaviness around Whale Island's two legs that had not been there before. The laughter was gone. The two legs went on their merry way to and fro to the other lands but those who stayed _lacked_ something that was no longer there. It was a necessary part of the cycle of life. The two legs needed the laughter- and the island knew just how to do it.

* * *

Laura sat up.

There was nothing special about that moment when she sat up, after all one tended to sit up after waking up in the morning. There were, of course, those who rolled out of bed instead but that was neither here nor there and Laura was not one of these people to begin with. No, it was quite normal for her to sit up, yawn, stretch, give her slumbering husband a chaste kiss and then leap up to get ready for the day. And so Rolf, of course, expected these things to happen. They were the norm, why should they not? Except they didn't, because Laura sat up… and then did not move.

"Laura?" he propped himself up on an elbow, brown hair tussled by sleep "Is something the matter?"

Light peeked through the windows as the sun began to rise. Soon, the island would be bustling with life; the fishermen heading out to retrieve the day's haul and later meet the ships from the mainland docking in for this month's supplies. It would be a cloudless, sunny day, fair weather all around and smiles just the same. A normal day and yet she felt as though something special had begun.

"Nothing at all" she turned to her husband and smiled, a hand absently pressed against her stomach "Just a wonderful dream."

* * *

"_Who are you?"_

…

"_Oh… really?"_

…

"_Can you blame me? Something like that is a little hard to believe you know."_

…

"_I guess it's a matter of faith. So, do you have a name?"_

* * *

Whale Island was her home.

Laura knew and understood that in the way that one knew and understood that the sky was blue and the grass was green. She knew it in her mother's smile and cookies and how her father would nuzzle her with his beard or pick her up and spin her around. They were already showing grey hairs by the time she was in her late teens, but they filled her up with love enough to last her forever. Rolf, with his bright smiles and warm eyes, filled her up with even more. Whale Island was her home and she would never want to leave it, so he decided he would stay, too and that made her love him all the more.

She was eighteen years old when Ging left the island at eleven-going-on-twelve. It's enough to make anyone wonder what he has that no one else does.

But taking one look at his eyes as he left, she understood. He wants 'something' and it is not in blue oceans, green forests or the belly of the whale. Whale Island is his home, but he can always come back to it.

Gently holding Mito's hand, she waved him goodbye with a smile.

* * *

"_That's a long name, you know. I can't even remember the first part of it."_

…

"_I guess I believe you. I mean… I'm here right? There's no going back."_

…

"…_what?"_

* * *

The ocean was his home.

Rolf knew and understood that in the way that one knew and understood that the sky was blue and the grass was green. He knew it in the salt of the waves, the firm clap of the captain's hand on his shoulder and the broad smiles of the men he has spent his whole life with. They were old and burly men who know love but have their own families to go to- far away from him. They filled him with warmth and love enough to last him forever. Laura, with her gentle laughter and warm smiles, filled him up with even more. The ocean is his home and Whale Island is right next to it, so he doesn't mind staying and loved the love in her eyes when he decided to stay.

He was nineteen years old when little Mito stood on the shore at four-going-on-five. It's enough to make him wonder how anyone can leave a child behind.

But taking one look at that near tears little girl, he understood. There is 'something' that Ging wants that is not here, and she knows it too. Whale Island is her home and his but she will stay and watch it until he returns.

Slinging an arm around Mito's shoulders, he nodded a quiet farewell.

* * *

…

"_I've been thinking about what you said. And I guess… I…"_

…

"_All right all right! I- I do! Yes! I accept!"_

…

"_Oh be quiet."_

* * *

One month passes before she is kneeling over the toilet bowl. Sickness, the doctor says somberly. Bed rest will do you well, here are some herbs. Laura lies at home and Rolf comes home fretting to her every day. She says she feels fine and when she's had enough of it she gets back on her feet and works regardless of the reprimands, waving them all off in a careless way that gets the older women talking about her father. She rolls her eyes at their good-natured teasing and life goes on.

Three months pass before she realizes her stomach has grown.

She does not dare to hope where she has hoped too many times before. Standing poised before the mirror, she clasps Rolf's hand tightly. Something stirs in the subtle undertones of daily life, something special, and she cannot help but think of her dream.

Five months pass and she knows it's real even though it feels too good to be true.

Whale Island is alive in a way that it hasn't been in years. The women living on the island all scurry to check on her. They bring herbs and gifts and laughter. The men take Rolf, tell him he's in for a hell of a ride and celebrate with booze. More than one man (and woman) wake with a headache the next morning but everyone is still bright with cheer. Laura and Rolf glow with joy all the while.

Eight months and they are nearly there.

She's tense and excited and the women are taking up watch. Even little Mito is a constant by her side, face drawn and ready with every motion. The girl's grandmother is there as well, all knowing smiles and wise eyes. Rolf works harder than ever, elated and frightened all at once. The village is buzzing.

The ninth month arrives.

* * *

…

"_Ah so it's time? Good, I was kind of getting bored here."_

…

"_You're good company! Just… a little out there."_

…

"_Yeah yeah. …hey. Thank you. Really. Thank you."_

…

* * *

She is a wailing baby girl with carrot-colored hair and dark, dark eyes. Rolf says she looks like her mother, Laura says she'll have her father's eyes. Neither of them can stop the swell of emotions and tears of joy. They name her Noko.

Mito has helped with the delivery, her eyes are wide and she seems caught between the trauma of bearing witness and enthusiasm at the bouncing baby girl. She cradles her in her arms, all laughter and smiles with her grandmother peering over her shoulder. The old woman's eyes bear a knowing twinkle as she stares down at the white-clothed bundle.

Noko smiles.


	2. II Ours

_**II.**_

Noko's cries pierce the late night air, rousing Rolf from what used to be a deep slumber. He heaves himself up with nary a grumble, taking a moment to orient himself before stumbling over to the crib. Laura is already there, scooping up their baby into the warmth of her embrace. She is hushing, humming and soothing, checking for what the newborn may need. It is, unsurprisingly, what is has been all the other times and soon the married couple are in their customary chairs by the hearth, Rolf checking the fire while his wife nurses.

It has been four months since Noko was born and Rolf feels he is doing rather well for a new father. It helps, of course, that she is not a very fussy baby. If something is not the matter, be it cleaning or hunger, then the babe will not call for them. It is simple, and if he thinks on it a bit more, slightly odd.

He can't remember his days as a babe, but he's almost positive that children are supposed to keep their parents up more than this. As it is now, Rolf still feels energetic when he has to get up to the boats in the morning. Now that could be old years of cabin boy work talking, but he knows that's not entirely the case. For now, however, he doesn't let it trouble him. Noko is a healthy infant and, sure, she might seem to be springing up a bit quickly but that's hardly a problem now is it? Maybe they just happened to spring out a genius. He says as much to Laura and his wife laughs.

"Well if there's anyone she's gotten her smarts from, it must be her dad" she smiles and at last manages to wean the infant off the milk "Goodness she's always so hungry. Sometimes I'm not sure I have enough."

"Nonsense" he grins back, eyes dancing with amusement "I'm sure-"

"Finish that thought, my love, and I'm afraid you'll be sowing your own clothes."

Rolf laughs, loud and hearty "I was only going to say that all the smarts must be coming from her mom. Goodness knows you act as my common sense half the time. I even hear a little voice in the back of my head that sounds like you whenever I'm going to do something particularly stupid."

That startles a giggle out of the woman "And you'll even admit it? Goodness, Rolf, are you losing your touch?"

"I might be with these two beautiful visions in front of me. I don't have a clue what I'm going to do when she gets older. Beat off the cabin boys with bats, maybe."

"Charmer. A bit early for that, though, don't you think?"

"It's never too early. I'll have you know I was getting plenty of talks at thirteen myself."

"That was because you were skirt chasing and the Captain wouldn't have any of it."

"Details."

"They're very important you know!" she laughs and cradles Noko carefully in the curve of her arm as the baby at last finishes her suckling.

The infant smacks her lips in what seems to be satisfaction, batting dark lashes at the world before she yawns and closes her eyes at last. Rolf moves to carry her while Laura adjusts her shirt and blanket, looking at the babe with fond eyes. A calloused hand moves gently through carrot-colored, feather fine hair. He gladly becomes lost in that moment, with only he and their little Noko, and is roused only by his wife's approach. She wraps an arm around his waist and leans her head on his shoulder, gently tugging up the corner of the blanket.

"Isn't she just the most beautiful little thing you've ever seen?"

His voice is rough with emotion, feelings long buried now pushed to the surface. Tears burn in his eyes and Rolf, toughened fisherman that he is, feels overwhelmed by love. The aching, wanting kind as well as the knowing, present kind. He feels more than sees the smile on Laura's lips when she presses a kiss to his shoulder.

"She is. And she's ours."

Ours. That word brings more joy and peace than he has ever thought possible.

Closing his eyes, the man shed silent tears then and there. Proud tears that trail down his chin and onto Noko's blanket. Healing tears that smooth over scars and seal wounds to be looked at for another day. He bears no protest when his wife guides him back to their room, to bed, where the three may sleep until the sun rises on a new day.


	3. III Waiting

_**III.**_

Grandmother notices things. People say it makes her wise, but really anyone can notice if they have the patience for it.

She notices the spark in her grandson's eyes like she has seen in her son before him. She knows, long before he chooses the day of departure, that he will leave the Island. She notices the hesitance in her granddaughter's eyes, so like her daughter's, and knows that she will stay. But most of all she notices the patterns, that these are things that have already happened before and will continue to happen for as long as their oddity of a family continues.

So when the little girl with carrot hair is born, when she looks up at her with bright, knowing eyes, Grandmother notices that there is a difference in the pattern.

As a girl she had to strain to hear the island, as an old woman that is not the case and even if it were, it would be impossible not to notice how it sang around the infant.

_Meddler,_ she thinks fondly and feels the island's laughter.

* * *

Whale Island is alive. Noko knows and understands this the way she knows and understands that the sky is blue and the grass is green.

She feels it like a rumbling in her bones all the way from the top of her head to her tippy toes, a steady thrum that lulls her to sleep. It makes her feel safe and warm and loved; the way she feels when mama pulls her into the fold of her arms and papa nuzzles her cheek with his beard. It is a source of constant encouragement and guidance, filling in the blanks in her mind where she cannot. Noko knows she is different in a way that isn't the 'different' that comes with being smart or pretty or other things. She closes her eyes and dreams of a different place, a place where she is tall and strong and not really different but just _normal_. Safe. Happy. There are times when she is very, very little that these things make her cry because she knows she has lost them forever.

But then mama takes her into the circle of her arms and papa sits by her side. He'll sing something deep and rumbly so that it goes from the top of her head to the tip of her toes in a way that's different from the island but comforting all the same. Mama will smooth the hair on her head and join him a higher, lilting sound that makes her think of the wind. And she is safe and happy and different but that is fine because, as much as she's lost, she's also gained so much.

Whale Island is not quite her home, but she doesn't mind letting it become hers.

* * *

"Noko! Where are you?"

She peeks over the edge of the hill, eyes bright and dancing with laughter. Laura wanders below, and she suppresses a giggle. She's right where she wants her.

Slowly, carefully, like the lions she knows from the place before –it's what she's taken to calling the dreams- she circles the hillside and glides down to her mother. She is one with the hill. Be the hill. The hill is green grass and rustling wind to cover her footsteps. She is that; the rustling wind and the green grass. So close now. One step more…

"Noko!"

She shrieks at the top of her tiny lungs and jumps a good foot in the air before whirling around, green eyes blazing.

"Mito-nee! Meanie! Noko was gonna scare mama!"

The 'nee' in question chuckles softly and straightens her apron as though nothing at all is the matter and she hasn't just snuck up on her, pouting almost two-year-old notwithstanding. It is with a great deal of effort that she fights down her amusement and puts on a stern expression, placing her hands on her hips. The child looks sheepish -though there is that little quirk of nonchalance in the way her let eyebrow climbs a little higher that makes her think Rolf and Laura will be having trouble when she's older- and hurries to defend herself "Uh-"

The older girl holds up a finger, silencing her immediately, and points down the hill "March."

With a resigned sigh that sounds far too heavy and dramatic for a child she turns to fulfill the order he dear Mito-nee has given. Laura is standing at the foot of it, arms crossed and looking like she too is fighting down the smile threatening to stretch on her lips. Her hair, a few shades darker than Noko's shines in the sunlight, the beacon that the toddler had likely been using to track her. Unfortunately the child had yet to realize that her lighter hair attracted more attention in sunlight. Huffing and shaking her head, Mito watches her step as she makes her way down the hill to the pair. Grass crunches beneath her feet and she smiles as the breeze sends the mixed scents of salt and pine into the air. It is familiar, comforting, and she finds herself reaching back to days spent in a forest, searching for a boy with golden eyes.

They are fond, precious memories and Mito shakes her head slightly, wondering what it would be like if Noko had a partner in crime like she had as a girl. From the stories she heard even Laura, saint-like as the older woman could seem, had been stubborn and abrasive when she was much younger. And Rolf was a, uh… special case. Some stories she had heard while helping work the bar still made her go red all the way to the tips of her ears. Maybe that was why Grandmother was so unfazed by everything, spending all day listening to the sailors could certainly do that to you. Once you spent enough time there, you had pretty much heard it all.

"But mama-"

"No buts. I know where you were trying to go."

"Awww."

The refusal or inability to even reject the conclusion has Mito in stitches, bracing one hand against her abdomen to try and soothe the growing ache from laughter. Laura is giggling behind her hand and Noko, watching the two 'adults' in absolute confusion, shrugs before joining in.

Out on the boats for the day's catch, Rolf raises his head as ringing laughter, so familiar, ghosts into his ears through the wind. The apparition makes him smile as he thinks of his wife and daughter, giving his own sharp bark of laughter before returning to his work. He looks forward to the end of the day, and the family waiting for him on shore.

* * *

It is almost time.

The island shivers with anticipation. It has received the message, whispering on the wind, rippling through the waters it shares with the vast ocean. The boy is coming back. The gold boy is returning to his home and with him he brings a two leg child- _his_ child. The legacy returns as it has time and again.

It thinks fondly of the family that has sprung up on its shores for so long. Constant companions, wild children close to it in a way that nothing had been for ages and ages. The oldest two leg of the wild children hushes it gently when its excitement stirs the golden girl and its little bird.

_Little bird_.

She stands at the glass wall, staring out into the night. Pushing the wall up and away, she stretches out a hand to the night air and the island sings with delight, sending a gentle swirl of its excitement up the connection. The little bird sways slightly but makes the happy, ringing sound it is so fond of. She does not hush him but finds her seat in her sleeping place and inquires until she can no longer speak and slips into the land of the dreaming.

The island cannot rest, it is always alive and vibrant and there even when it is as relaxed as it can possibly be. It is enthused, brilliant with the joy of the return of the legacy.

It waits.

* * *

**Author's Note**

**Hello there. This update was quite a ways along and, I'll be frank, it will continue to be that way. This story follows the fickle whims of my muse and will remain rather erratic. Unlike YARS, for which I have an idea of the direction I will take it in, Metempsychosis is very much experimental and will remain in a drabble-esque format. I suspect that might change in the future. If you have any questions or find anything confusing, please feel free to ask about it.**

**If any of you read YARS, the next chapter is coming along a bit slowly but it is being written. I haven't abandoned it and I don't intend to.**

**With all that said and done, thank you all so much for taking the time to read this story. I would very much appreciate criticism. Experimental doesn't mean 'free of error' after all and I value the input. Please have a wonderful day/evening!**

**-TwiDawnLight**


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